


Please Stand By The Shore

by LapisLazooti



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Family Issues, Fluff and Angst, Forced Prostitution, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Hurt Loki (Marvel), M/M, Mermaid Loki, Merman Loki, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Torture, i take canon out back and shoot it, mermaid au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-06-11 19:39:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15322818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LapisLazooti/pseuds/LapisLazooti
Summary: Bucky Barnes befriends a merman who'd been cast down from another world long before Bucky had even been born - through the pair is split up for some seventy years, the sea-dweller genuinely believing his friend had died until he finds him walking along the same pier where they had met.





	1. The Good Old Days

"So we go to this bar, right? And the bartender stops Steve and because he thinks he's just a little kid-" Bucky's story is cut short by his own laughter, the melodious sound accompanied only by the faint background noise of the wind dancing around them. "And it isn't even the first time it's happened. Stevie's so small he gets mistaken for a teenager all the time."

Loki snickered along with him, the mer sitting with his chin resting against his folded arms that were propped up on the dock. Bucky's legs dangled in the water beside him and created soft ripples around them. "And you don't?" He asked, a smug smile spread across his lips and showing off pointed teeth.

"'Course not. I look like a man." He lifts his arm, hand curled into a fist as be flexed. The bulging bicep wasn't surprising, from what he'd told Loki he was quite the athlete even before joining the army. Even though it wasn't surprising, it certainly was impressive. Loki had never seen Steve, but it wasn't hard to imagine how someone could look like a mere teen in comparison to James. Goddamn. "A big, burly man," He joked.

His squared jaw and dimpled chin were always covered in shaggy stubble, clothes always dirtied from physical labor. He consistently had some form of bruise or scratch visible on him as well. He exuded the rough-and-tumble manliness that the humans seemed to idolize. "You sure do." He smirked, slitted pupils flickering down the other's form briefly. He didn't seem to pick up on it. If he did; he made no mention of it. "Though, you probably shouldn't tell Steve that he doesn't."

"Psh. He knows." He waved his hand dismissively before it went to pat Loki's head between the horns that protruded from his forehead. 

If it had been anyone else touching him, Loki would have bitten their fucking fingers off.

But Bucky was good. He trusted Bucky, which was rare, but Bucky was safe. He was nice. He treated him like a person and not an object or an exotic pet. That was something he hadn't experienced since he was very young - absolutely hadn't encountered anyone like him in the hundred or so years he'd been claiming this part of the earth's ocean as his home. "The sun is setting," Loki observed. "Shouldn't you be heading back soon?" He asked. He really didn't want his friend to leave, though he knew it wouldn't be safe for either of them if he stayed much longer. They didn't want to risk being found and Loki being hunted, or Bucky getting in trouble for being out too late.

"Probably." The man sighed. He pushed himself back on the pier, pulling his feet from the salty water to stand back on the old wood of the dock. "See you soon?"

"See you soon," Loki pushed himself away from the dock as the other stood up. He simply floated a few feet from it as he watched Bucky go, waving a clawed hand in farewell.

That was the last time he saw James Barnes. Soon never came, though he saw more ships out on the water than usual - he could only assume soldiers were getting shipped off to another country to fight a pitiful, human war where they'd probably die without reason. Bucky had told him all about the war and how he wished it would end, about how he had been drafted. Bucky would much rather stay and go to college - he easily could have gotten in, too, apparently, he had been a star student as a child as well as an athlete. An overachiever, really. Regardless, Steve was always the one who had wanted to go and fight for their country. Not Bucky.

It was obvious to Loki that he had finally been sent off across the sea to fight in that stupid goddamm war. That he was alone again, and that his one friend could very easily die at the hands of ruthless men who cared little about the lives of others. His heart ached. It ached for a long, long time until a bunched up piece of printed paper tumbled by the dock. He waited there sometimes on the days Bucky would usually visit, fruitlessly hoping he'd come swaggering up in his combat boots with his pants stupidly tucked into them, lopsided grin firmly in place as he greeted the merman. He snagged the parchment once it was within reach, something within him telling him to straighten it out from the ball it was in to read it.

He didn't register what all of it said. But he saw 'Hero', 'Steve Rogers', 'James Buchanan Barnes', and 'Dead'. The aching in his heart grew to an overwhelming thump of pain. No more Sunday morning meetings, no more listening to Bucky rambling about boxing tournaments or dates he'd been on. They never spoke about anything too serious or overly personal, but it didn't devalue their closeness. He deeply, genuinely cared about the human. And he was gone.

The day he found out Bucky had died was the day he truly wondered if every last drop of good in the universe had been drained, seeing as Bucky was the one good thing he had found in this poor excuse of an existence, on earth or otherwise.

And he was gone now, too. His Bucky was dead - no matter how many times throughout the years he would stop by the pier they used to meet at, he wasn't coming back. He honestly couldn't decide if he was coming back for the nostalgia of it or if a part of him genuinely hoped the man would come back to him.

He mentally kicked himself each time he flicked his tail with intent towards the shore. Loki knew how ridiculous this was. It was going on seventy-four years now since Bucky's death - even if he had lived, he would have died of old age by now. Humans didn't live very long, he had learned. He carefully poked his head out of the water, just barely, when he heard footsteps against wood and two deep voices speaking. One of the humans was tall, blonde and unreasonably muscular - the other having long and wavy brown hair and a left hand that seemed to glint in the sunlight. There was something about that one. 

They spoke among themselves for a moment, the man with the metal arm looking confused and the blonde getting physically riled up as he stared at the water, looking like he was ready to start a fight at any moment. He'd ducked back down - had they seen him?

"...Loki?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uuuuu this is such an AU. My bud Barry came to me with this idea and it somehow turned into a roleplay??? Then we were encouraged to turn it into a fic so here we are!! Get ready for angst!!!


	2. Soon

There was something eerily familiar about walking along this pier with Steve beside him. Something about the smell of the sea wafting through the air and the feeling of worn wood beneath his boots that was awakening something within him. Which shouldn't be too alarming considering they were in their home state, it was pretty likely that he had been here before - but something was off. He had been here many, many times. He couldn't place when or where, but he had. Hydra had severely screwed up his brain so that memories were corrupted and blurred, but not erased, though he wished that some were. 

He stopped in his tracks and earned a concerned look from Steve as he stood in front of him. "You okay, Buck?"

"I remember this," Bucky nodded. His gaze roamed the expanse of the water beside them, spotting a pair of horns peeking up from the surface accompanied by floating strands of jet black hair. He felt the gears turning within his mind, squeaky and in need of a good oiling but still somewhat functional nonetheless. And it clicked. "...Loki?"

The horned figure peered up so that his eyes were visible now, green and pupil's slit like a cat's. Or a snake's, more accurately. Soaked obsidian hair clung to the man's face, obscuring it. But not so much that Bucky wasn't one-hundred percent sure that this creature had been one of his best friends before the army, before Hydra, before the Winter Soldier.

"Bucky?" Loki returned, voice laced with both disbelief and excitement. How he was alive, he didn't have so much as a theory, nor as to why or how he still looked so young. The only thing that had changed was the length of his hair and his eyes. His eyes had seen things. They were harder, colder, but still wrinkled at the corners when he grinned down at him. This was Bucky. This was his friend.

"You still remember me." It wasn't hard to recognize Loki, either, his hair much longer and teeth sharper, but that was the extent of it. Still had an aura of mischief that you could feel in his presence, horns that still glistened as water dripped from them and scales shone in the sunlight. The memories hit him like a truck, now, every time he had traveled down to this pier to visit him. Just about every week he'd come to talk - Loki would tell him about any drama he had heard on the beach and in turn, Bucky would tell him about what had been going on with him. Between being recruited, boxing tournaments, art classes with Steve, failed double dates, he always had something to say. He remembers sitting with his bare feet in the cool water, laughing at snarky comments his half-fish friend made every so often. It was... Relieving, to have a flood of good memories, for once.

"You're still alive." Loki returned, an unintentionally sly grin spread across his face. "I thought you were dead, Bucky, where in the world have you been?"

"I don't want to talk about it." He tried desperately not to snap; although his words inevitably came out much harsher than he had intended. He had a hard time regulating his emotions sometimes, or not coming off as a complete ass. It was difficult, made him feel like he still didn't have complete control.

That explained the dark, drained look his eyes held now. Loki didn't push it. Demons were best left swept beneath the rug for right now, just as Loki himself had done back in the forties when he and Bucky first met. He nodded towards Steve instead, "Who's that?"

"I should be asking you the same thing." The super soldier spoke with a firm, commanding tone that made Loki's confidence sway for a brief moment. He was incredibly thankful when Bucky's hand went to rest on the man's shoulder to calm him. 

"You remember me tellin' you about Steve?"

"...The scrawny, ill kid from Brooklyn who used to pick fights with men twice his size and get kicked out of bars?" He looked him over. If that was him, either Bucky was miserable at descriptions or there had been some major changes. Steve was taller than Bucky now, shoulders broad and arms entirely too muscular to fit the description he had been given so many years ago. Then again, his old friend had changed a lot too, particularly that arm... What happened to him? His sleeves covered most of it, but the sun glinting against metal and how the hem of his sleeve pushed past his wrist when he clasped his hand over Steve's shoulder, to show a dark gray and shiny arm made it very apparent that the limb wasn't organic.

"Yep, that's him." Bucky grinned. "Little Stevie, all grown up."

WIth Bucky so at ease, Steve seemed to finally let his guard down as well. He didn't look like he was ready to throw a punch at a moments notice, now, and that was certainly something to be thankful for. Even trusted Loki enough to accept a firm handshake from him. Clearly a horrid choice, Steve would realize as he was yanked into the water by his arm. The intertwined sounds of the splash of water and Bucky's laughter was a combination he had missed dearly. How many times he had pulled Bucky into the water like that, he couldn't even remember. 

The look of suppressed amusement and surprise on Steve's face was pretty good, too. 

"He used to do that to me all that time. Did it the first time we met, too." Bucky's laughter died down to small snickers once Steve pulled himself up onto the dock again, hair flattened against his head and clothes completely soaked. Loki couldn't help but chuckle along with him.

"How come you never told me?" Steve asked; fruitlessly attempting to wring his shirt free of the water as Bucky took a seat next to him. He was clearly still trying to process what had just happened. Being tugged into the ocean by a mermaid wasn't something that happened every day.

"Didn't think you were a mermaid kinda guy," He shrugged. "And I wanted to keep him safe. No offense, but the more people who knew about him, the more danger he was in." Somehow, everything was crystal clear now. How they had met, the months of visiting and chatting about whatever came to mind. There had to be gaps here and there, but for the most part, it was like a switched had been flicked and all of the memories and feelings he had associated with Loki came flooding back all at once. 

Steve seemed to understand. From the tales Loki had been told of the man, he could gather that he was stupidly righteous, never wanting anyone to get hurt no matter the cost. He wasn't too worried about him being upset with Bucky, and he didn't either. "Well now that I'm soaked - I should probably go back to the compound so I can get into some dry clothes. You comin' with, Buck?"

He contemplated staying for a moment. He didn't want Steve to go back alone, nor did he want Steve worrying about him if he chose to stay. But dear god - he and Loki had a lot to catch up on, a lot to talk about especially if Steve wasn't there and Loki was able to be completely at ease. "Yeah," He nodded, standing up when the other superhero hopped to his feet. "...Want to meet here on Sunday, like we used to? We have a lotta catching up to do, pal."

Loki's heart pumped fast in his chest. Perhaps there could be something resembling normalcy and structure for him again, socialization beyond eavesdropping on people hanging out on the beach. Perhaps Bucky would be part of his life again, after decades of believing the man to be dead and still never truly getting over it. "Of course." He wished he could say more. Tell him how he missed him, ask how he'd survived and why he hadn't visited him. He wouldn't really ask that last question - but he sure as hell wanted to. He'd almost given up. Had given up after he found out that Bucky had supposedly died. 

"See you soon, then." Bucky waved with a smile as he walked off following close behind Steve, that lopsided grin on his face the same as it had been on the day they exchanged their last 'see you soon's.

"See you soon."


	3. Ninth

Familiar footsteps lured Loki to the surface from his hiding place beneath the dock. There was a crispness in the morning air that met his skin and scales as he popped up to see Bucky standing in front of him. It was just like old times, the soldier greeting him with a nod and Loki struggling to resist the urge to grasp his ankle and yank him into the water. It was odd for him to see him in such modern clothes, however, in a new pair of jeans and a long sleeve shirt with a baseball team logo despite it being summer. He recognized the graphic on the shirt to belong to a team Bucky used to talk about all the time - he was glad his love for the strange human sport hadn't gotten lost with the time. "How are you doing on this beautiful morning, Barnes?" Loki could so easily slip right back to the time where this was a weekly - sometimes more often - occurrence, like it hadn't been seventy some years since they last spoke.

"Wonderful. Better now." He sat himself down on the edge just like he used to, hair falling over his shoulders and a few strands straying away with the breeze. "...We really do have a lot of catching up to do, huh?" Bucky said with an awkward chuckle. Perhaps he isn't experiencing the same ease as Loki when it came to picking everything up right where they left off.

"We do. I know you said before that you weren't too keen on talking about what happened while you were gone, but-"

"It's alright. Not just gonna keep everything from you," The corners of his mouth tugged into a reassuring smile. His eyes still held enormous amounts of pain behind them, but the smile was genuine. "I fell from a train, that's why everyone thought I was dead. Got taken by the bad guys and lost my arm and, uh... A lot of other stuff. I was frozen for a good chunk of the time while I was away, that's why I haven't aged much." Bucky answered the unspoken questions like he could read his mind. Bucky had to answer the same ones quite a few times before, he knew the usual curiosities. "What did you get up to while I was gone?"

Loki didn't linger too much on Bucky's explanation. Didn't particularly want to dwell on his thoughts about what happened to him while he was gone, what the other things he lost were. "A whole lot of nothing, really." He laughed.

\--

The second visit, things felt more comfortable, more fluid and back to the way they had been. The storytelling was mostly one-sided, Loki didn't seem to have many new ones. "Who's this Stark you've mentioned? Isn't that the man who helped with Steve?"

"Uh- no, actually, that was Howard Stark. Tony Stark is the guy I've been talking about, Howard's kid, but... I don't really associate the two together anymore. Tony doesn't either." Bucky paused, and Loki understood. He absolutely understood paternal issues. "Tony's the tin can guy, you might have seen him in the paper before. Real rich, dating a wizard. He's kinda the boss, I guess," He shrugged. Tony was the one with the money and the resources, at least, he was in charge of the compound to a degree.

"I thought Steve was the leader?"

"Eh," Bucky let out a small laugh. Clearly, a lot to unpack there. "There's been a bit of a power shift. There was some friction on the team when I came back, Me 'n Stevie and some of the others broke some laws, deals were made and we're kind of under more surveillance now." It was complicated, though he tried to break it down to be as simple as possible. The whole story was long and dry in his opinion, the vague and watered down version was good enough.

"It sounds like you've had some adventures since our parting." He had no idea.

\--

The fifth visit had Bucky in the water with him, swim shorts and a tank top clinging to his muscular form as he slipped into the water. This was the first time he'd seen the scar separating the metal arm from healthy skin. The first arm obviously hadn't been attached well if the indents in the scarred flesh said anything to say about it. A few scars littered the otherwise unscathed arm as well. Loki was scared to think about how he got any of the scars he could see now that he wasn't wearing his usual getup comprised of jeans and a long sleeved t-shirt.

"I haven't gone swimming in forever. Feels nice." Bucky slipped further into the water so that it rested just beneath his jaw, wavy and slightly greasy looking hair splayed out along the water's surface around him. The water was cool - a welcomed break on a sunny day where the temperature was nearing unbearably hot. "I think the last time I can remember swimming for the hell of it was back when we met."

"The water is more polluted than ever before, but welcome back." Loki grinned, sharp teeth displayed in the mischevious expression he seemed to be the master of. 

"Thanks. Good to be back, even if the water is pretty dirty."

"It's good to have you back."

\--

Ninth visit.

"I can't stay long today. We're heading out on a mission later tonight, and I gotta... Uh, Prepare."

That made Loki's blood run cold. He hadn't been on any missions - at least big ones that could even be granted the title of being called a 'mission' - since they'd been reunited, and he absolutely hated the thought of Bucky being in a position where the threat of him getting hurt was imminent.

Maybe he'd gotten a little too protective, after everything. He'd just gotten Bucky back, after all, he didn't want to lose him again so soon. He was well aware he had been through too much as it is, too. "What kind of mission?" 

"Hydra. The- The people that took me before, we got some tips that they're on the move again. In America. I know the most about them."

"They're making you go face the people that hurt you?" Loki's nose scrunched up in disgust, slitted pupils narrowing. Bucky didn't look too thrilled about the upcoming mission either.

"I volunteered. I want to get rid of them." Bucky's eyes glazed over as he spoke, staring somewhere just to the left of where Loki was floating.

And he understood. Lord knows what he'd give for the courage and opportunities to rip his past abusers to shreds, sink his teeth into them and tear them into so many pieces that he couldn't remember what any expression of pleasure or arrogance looked like on their faces, only pain like they had inflicted on him. He almost wanted to cheer his friend on, give him a pep talk about ripping their entrails out. ...He would, but he seemed to be slipping further from reality the longer the topic lingered.

"I'm glad they aren't forcing you into it, then, if that is the case. Do you have any victory celebrations planned for afterward, any post-mission rituals?" Loki asked as Bucky took a seat on the dock, as close to the water as he could get without letting his legs hang off of the pier. This was the usual when he wasn't actually in the water with him. 

"Can I be brutally honest?" 

"Of course." 

"I pretty much get back and go sit in my room. Take a nap." He snorted. "Everyone else gets busy fixing up their suits or working on damage control, not too much of any of that for me to do." 

"Sounds like you're living the life in that Avenger's compound of yours." He snickered, propping himself up on the dock only to immediately notice an odd figure off in the distance, standing against a wall not too far from them. They weren't looking down at their phone nor looking around as if waiting for someone. They seemed to be looking at the two. Eyes darting around, Loki noticed two more suspicious people in the area, one in a nearby car and another on the beach, alarmingly close to the dock. Something very clearly wasn't right. 

And when the man that had been previously leaning against the wall started approaching the dock, Loki knew something was wrong. He grabbed Bucky by the wrist, quickly pulling him beneath the water. He'd have to apologize later for the panic the sharp tug - and being pulled beneath the surface without warning - probably caused. But right now, he had a sinking feeling that there may not be time for 'sorry''s right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot? Plot.
> 
> This chapter pretty much explains how this fits in with Civil War? Instead of leaving Tony in Siberia, they all manage to talk it out. Tony has some talks with the government and comes to an agreement that Cap's team won't be fugitives. They're under more supervision, but with everyone cooperating they're able to make the Sokovia Accords a bit more lenient.


	4. Burning

Bucky's breath caught in his throat as he was pulled into the water. All was fine and dandy, this was just another one of Loki's tricks - until it wasn't. Until he was being pulled along beside Loki further and further away from the pier until he felt lightheaded from the lack of oxygen and panic set in. He trusted Loki. But that didn't mean he wasn't afraid of what he may be doing, the trust didn't mean immunity to betrayal. The merman swam faster. Bucky was afraid.

He doesn't remember closing his eyes. But he did, or maybe blacked out for a few seconds, because when light registered in his mind again everything was dim, and they certainly weren't underwater anymore. He felt something hard and cool beneath him; bumpy with a few sharp points against his back. Rocks, if he had to make an educated guess. His vision was blurry. Spots of unfocused light above him, rays shining down from the presumed holes in the ceiling. He could have sworn he saw a few green sparkles float through the light, though he chalked it up to imagination and fuzzy vision. The view only came into full focus when a very familiar face popped up above him, sooty black hair tickling against his shoulder. 

"I do apologize for that, are you alright?" 

"Yeah," Bucky wheezed. He made no attempt to get up, with Loki looming over him and how heavy his body felt. He cursed himself for feeling weak so quickly - he probably wasn't under for much longer than when he was when pulled Steve out of the lake, yet his lungs burned uncomfortably. "What was that about?"

"People were watching us. Three men, at least, one in a car. I could see the one closest to us had an earpiece, I can only assume they were all together. Communicating discreetly, presumably." He explained. "They weren't good. I don't- I don't know what it was, but I felt a pit in my chest that made me feel like something bad was going to happen."

Bucky sucked in a breath of panic, the sharp inhale only deepening the burning in his chest and pushing a cough from him. "I-It's Hydra." He knew it was. He should have known better - visiting the same place so regularly, knowing Hydra was still out there. He was a target. He let his guard down when he was around Loki, felt unyieldingly safe. He was vulnerable with him, agents could easily come and snatch him up. Take him away and break him again. He shuddered. "There's more than three of them. They wouldn't come try to get me with- with that few agents. There's more of them, they're just hiding, they don't want to be too suspicious. They didn't want to get my attention-" When he sits up he immediately feels a cool, clawed hand against his cheek.

"I won't let them take you."

"You don't know how strong... You don't understand how strong they are, how many of them there probably are." How ruthless they were. How absolutely vile, how willing they were to take and take and never come anywhere near giving. They'd take Loki, too, if he wasn't forced to kill him once the Winter Soldier was activated again. The thought made his stomach churn.

"There's a lot you don't know about me."

"...There's a lot you don't know about me, either." He had never gone further than telling him that Hydra had hurt him. He never went into detail about how, never told him about the dozens of brutal killings he carried out. Talking about it was hard and quite scaring Loki away was an added incentive. He was always conflicted. Part of him felt like he was lying. Loki didn't know about the monster living dormant inside of him and it almost felt like he was leading him on or lying about who he was - the other part of him lived for every moment he could pretend to be normal. Intact. 

"We have all the time in the world to discuss if you're comfortable. They won't be able to find you here, I promise, we can hide in here until it's clear. I might be able to get you back closer to the compound where you'll be safer if you can direct me there."

Bucky didn't feel particularly safe at the compound, either. Whenever he did, it was only because Steve was around. "...If they find me, they- they just gotta say a few words and I won't be me anymore, Loki. I'll be a soulless puppet."

Loki situated himself beside Bucky, the first time the man has ever seen him sit on land. His movements were a bit stilted and awkward, all grace he had in the water completely stripped away, but he shifted closer to him regardless. The look in Bucky's eyes damn near kills him. It speaks volumes about the trauma he couldn't put into words, about the horrors he had seen. "I'll kill them if they start saying those words. I'll take care of every last one of them, James." He reluctantly let his hand fall to rest on the small of the other's back. "You're safe with me, I can promise you that."

The use of his real name was grounding. The burning sensations in his lungs lessened when he took a slow, deep breath and let his body relax against Loki's touch. His fingers felt distinctly cool even through the soaked fabric of his shirt. "Okay," He started, albeit hesitant to fully believe he was safe right now. Old habits die hard. "Th... Thank you."

Loki didn't move from his side even when his breaths grew shaky and nervous. He only ran his hand up and down his back, tips of his claws gently dragging across his back in a way that made pleasant and relaxing tingles permeate his spine. "We can meet somewhere else from now on, they won't find you. We'll switch locations every so often so they never stay on your trail." His free hand pushes a few dripping locks from Bucky's face, merely staring at him for a few moments with a small smile. 

Bucky would say it was... adoring if he didn't know better.

The moment didn't last long. Ripples in the water, near where the assumed entrance of the cave was, drew Loki's attention. "I'm going to check on that - I'm sure it's nothing. You stay here, no radars or technology of theirs will be able to track you here." A kiss was pressed to Bucky's cheek.

He couldn't help a faint smile when the other's lips met his cheek. It soon faded to a frown, however, when Loki began to slip into the water once more and the comforting touch was gone as soon as it came. "How do you know for sure?"

"Magic, Darling." Mischief seemed to practically ooze from Loki, the way his lips curved upwards in a grin. Before sinking into the water he gave a wave, a display of twinkling green spots reminiscent of stars left his fingertips. Maybe the sparkles he had seen floating around the cave earlier hadn't been a trick of the eye.

And then the yelling started. And more yelling. Splashing, gunshots, a bright green blast that created a crater in the water that he could see even from the cave. Bucky pressed himself against the wall of his cave, fingers digging into the hard dirt of the cave floor. Vibranium fingers left dents in their wake. He didn't identify any of the screams he heard as Loki's that didn't do much to soothe him. 

There's silence, and a finned arm pops up from the water to place a book and a gun on shore. He examined the items from his place, with his back pushed flush against the rock wall. They both seemed to be completely dry, a faint glint of green and gold on them that resembled glitter. Loki's magic, no doubt. And then he really, really took a good look at the book, crimson and dirty with a black star imprinted on the cover. He would have thought it would be under more security, somewhere safer - maybe in Siberia. They must have planned on using the trigger words as soon as they captured him. Make him compliant right off the bat, no struggle.

He brought his knees to his chest like a small, frightened child. That's what he felt like, at least. His throat felt like it was going to close up and completely cut off his air supply. 

One more gunshot. Silence. 

Until Loki pops back up. His horns have a faint glow to them, his teeth looking sharper than usual. There aren't any visible injuries on the merman. Bucky doesn't know how that's possible, but as soon as he realizes he's alright his eyes are back on the book again as if the object itself was dangerous without someone speaking its contents. "All clear. Are you okay?"

"How, How many were there?"

"Twenty, thirty? They can't hurt you anymore. They're all dead, ash in the ocean." Loki reassured. His gaze follows Bucky's, confused when he thinks it lays on the gun, at first. He reevaluates and finds that those fearful eyes rest on the red book he had brought back. "They kept holding it up. It seems a bit burned, but it should still be able to be opened."

"No," Bucky practically snaps. A painfully shaky breath left his lips before he could even answer. His voice was barely above a whisper when he finds the strength to. "That's... What they used to break me." The only thing as far as his (granted unreliable) memory could tell. He always saw that book before he lost control. Before his body fell into the hands of Hydra but his eyes remained his own.

"I can destroy it. No one will find it, not one word of it." He continued when he receives a confused, close to doubtful look. "I decimated all of those men, I think I can handle destroying a mere book. We'll set it on fire right here, right now." 

"...Really?"

"For you, Bucky? Anything." He pushed himself back onto the shore of the cave, pushing the book to be two or so feet away from him. His hands hover above it, a small green flame forming between his palms and latching itself on to the cursed Hydra book. Soon the book was engulfed in the magic fire, burning fast and passionately.

Watching the pages that caused him nothing but misery go up in flames was perhaps the most beautiful thing Bucky had ever seen. It felt like anvils had been lifted from his chest, weighted shackles removed from his wrists. His mind felt lighter, somehow. It was a pile of crumbling, gray ash in no time. No more instructions. No more trigger words. No more Winter Soldier. "Goddamn, Loki- Thank you." A burning feeling returns, this time manifesting as tears spilling from his eyes. Good, relieved tears. Welcomed tears.

The shore of the cave doesn't go back far and Loki is able to scoot himself back to sit beside his friend. Cupping his cheeks between his hands with a gentle touch that neither of them has felt for far too long - he carefully wipes a few tears away. "You're safe."

Bucky listens to his heart, for once, overwhelmed by unrelenting joy and relief. The book is gone and he's allowed to make his own decisions. He tilts his head forward and his lips meet Loki's in a wonderfully innocent kiss. It simply felt right, at the moment, but as soon as he pulls back he has a sinking feeling he's done something wrong. "That was a- a heat of the moment sorta thing, I didn't- That was really sudden." He chuckled, awkward and unsure.

But Loki grinned. A faint but noticeable emerald flush graced his cheeks, all the way up to the tips of his ears. "Not unwelcome, though."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I REALLY CRANKED THIS ONE OUT......... i just posted chapter 3 like five hours ago holy shit
> 
> hopefully it's alright, i feel like i pull the "rely on grammarly for typos and not read the writing before posting it immediately after finishing it" card so often i don't even need to apologize at this point


	5. Ledgers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter happens before the main timeline of the story and contains some heavy subjects, the kind the tags nod to. Warnings for this chapter are:
> 
> -Past/implied sexual abuse, nothing happens on-screen. More focused on how the victim feels than what actually happens, everything else is implied by subtext.
> 
> -emetophobia
> 
> -Brief mention of there being a possibility a character could hurt themselves. No method is described and is only mentioned in passing.

"You doin' okay, Buck?" Steve kept the hand on his shoulder light and unobtrusive. This was hard on him, he could tell.

"About as okay as I can be right now." He flashed him a smile, as insincere as it was. Exploring a newly cleared Hydra base could never be easy. It would never be as difficult as walking through the base in Siberia where he had been kept, however, so this felt manageable at the very least. The most unsettling thing was how familiar the layout felt, yet how different it was from the base in Siberia. He must have been here before. "Don't worry about me."

He shook his flashlight to rejuvenate the beam. The darkness and the cold chilling the abandoned facility, and how industrial everything was, made it seem like the setting for a horror movie. As if it wasn't unsettling enough. He heard the screech of metal and turned the corner to see Sam pulling open a heavy door and Natasha with her gun drawn.

"Just in case," She explained when she peeks back to see Bucky looking a little more than alarmed. There shouldn't be anyone in there. They'd cleared everyone out, had the heat signature reading technology that amazed Bucky and everything.

Unsurprisingly, the room that had been revealed was just as abandoned as the rest of the building. It was almost as dark and dreary as the rest of the rooms they'd been in as well, the difference being a flickering fluorescent light attached to the ceiling. The rest of the furnishing was strange, too. Where most rooms were filled with vaults and desks, control panels, or armories - this room had a single metal-framed bed in the corner, a single bookshelf and a desk littered in sloppily stacked manilla folders. It wasn't a bedroom, as the bed would imply. They'd seen the dormitories here, always filled with bunks lined against the wall in a large room. Never just a single bed lacking any sheets or pillows.

That made his stomach twist in knots. The worst part was, he couldn't understand why. It was just a normal room. There was nothing inherently unsettling about it. There had been worse, the rooms with a few hospital beds and outdated equitment. 

Something simultaneously wanted to pull him into the room and make him run to get as far away from it as he could get. The former won and he followed Sam and Nat into the room to check it out. Sam went to check out the bookshelf to look at whatever books and documents resided there, whereas Natasha went to examine the bed. The files were left for him to look through, apparently.

There wasn't much of anything interesting or seemingly important. The first two files were filled with ledgers. Names and amounts varying from the US dollar equivalent of five dollars to five hundred or more in a number of different currencies. Euros, Rubles, Yen, Pounds - But no explanations about what the purchases were for were to be found. He set them to the side after scanning the list of names. None of them sounded familiar, but they may be of use later if they could figure out what it was all for. The third file seemed to be just a ledger as well until he came across few handwritten notes paperclipped to the side and a littering of loose polaroids fell from the folder and onto the floor.

As he crouched down to look at them, a pit of nasuea grew in his stomach.

The polaroids were all extremely sexual. One of just genitals, one of semen splattered across a bare torso. There couldn't be anything good about these pictures being in Hydra's possession. His eyes wandered from picture to picture. Many were dark or blurry, but it was obvious in each one that they were wildly explicit. A hand on a groin or one even implying penetration, a strange glint coming from the left side of the subject caused by the flash reflecting off of something. 

And then the last one his eyes flickered across. Long hair falling in front of the subject's face and obscuring their features slightly, a - oh, god - in their - in his, in Bucky's, it was his - mouth. 

That was him in all of those pictures.

He stumbled backward and ran, barely making it past the doorway before he had to keel over and empty his stomach of this morning's breakfast. As everything spilled past his lips, memories flooded in. As if there were room for the horrid recollections now with everything else purged from his system. The wretched feelings of being tied down to the sheetless bed where the springs dug into his back or abdomen. Feeling completely helpless and vulnerable, unable to fight back in any way. Either from the brainwashing making his brain go numb or for fear of punishment. He couldn't believe he forgot. He wished he hadn't remembered. 

He felt violated, defiled and dirty. The ledgers - they must have been for him. Strangers paying for him, to use his body. Remembering how many names were in those files made him dry heave again. How many more of those folders contained ledgers like that, how many people had purchased him? How many more revolting pictures were there of him? Were they all here, or had they been spread out, given to customers as souveniers? 

"Barnes?"

Someone's hand is on his back and he quickly cowers away from it. He doesn't fight, doesn't swat their hand away and snap like he wants to.

"Sam," Natasha's voice comes from the other room, warning and wavering in a way he's only heard one or two times. Something is wrong and he has a feeling it's him. Sam's - or he assumes Sam's - hand leaves his back and he retreats to the other room. Silence.

They were going to figure out he was a whore, see the long list of men who paid as little as mere pocket change to do things with him. They were going to see him vulnerable, naked, and abused in those pictures. His image was going to be tarnished, he was going to be pitied.

"Buck? Oh god," Steve's at his side now and all he wants to do is curl up into a ball and sob, scream at everyone who came near him and tell them not to touch him. He just stays bent over with his hands on his knees and gaze glued to the concrete wall in front of him. "Are you okay? Are you sick? Did something happen? Bucky?"

He doesn't respond.

He's damn near catatonic on the long jet ride back to New York. He felt like he did when he was the Winter Soldier; watching from inside of his body but not in control of it. Steve, Nat, and Sam all tried to talk to him at some point during the trip. They all gave up. He wouldn't - couldn't say a word.

They started talking like he wasn't there and he started to feel like he really wasn't.

"What do we even... Do from here? What do we do with those files? What do we do to help him?"

"We're keeping the documents. They contain names of people who could quite possibly be affiliates of Hydra. The dates go up to 2011, Steve, these people are still out there and could have information. They could still be working for Hydra." Natasha spoke.

"And the pictures? We can't just keep those! They're-"

"Sick. Yeah, we're burning those motherfuckers to high hell. No if, and's, or buts." Sam announced. Bucky couldn't place if he thought the acts in the pictures were vile or if Wilson thought he was the sick one. 

Silence. He's too busy staring at a wall to see what they're doing, but he thinks the lull in conversation is to look at him. He feels eyes.

"And how do we go about helping him? He's traumatized. I don't know if he's going to be able to bounce back like this like he did after we went to the base in Siberia." Steve thinks he's broken, Bucky decides.

"We bring in a SHIELD trained counselor. We listen to what he wants and needs and maybe we ease off of him going on Hydra missions for a while. Other than that... I, I don't know, Rogers. I found restraints under the bed along with a whip and a baton, most notably, and some... More sexual paraphanelia. It was a lot. Who knows how much he endured." 

"He's strong. It ain't gonna be easy, but he bounced back from every other form of torture. He'll make it through this, too." Bucky heard a soft 'pat' sound, looking over to see Sam's hand on Steve's shoulder. The soldier grits his teeth and turned to stare back at the wall in front of him. He doesn't want to bounce back from this, he wants to forget. He'd sit in that damned chair again if it meant getting rid of the pictures he saw today, the list of hundreds of names. 

\--

Bucky hardly remembers anything between then and waking up in his own bed in his own room in the compound. The sheets are soft and the blanket on top of him is weighted just enough to make him feel safe and held rather than restrained. A cup of tea awaits him on his bedside table. It's hot, steam still rising in floaty waves. Someone must have came to check on him in the past few minutes.

His first thought is that he wants to take a bath. He's sweaty, covered in dirt and a little bit of vomit from yesterday. He feels gross and slimy. "F..Friday, call Steve Rogers." He croaked out. His throat is sore and his entire body feels heavy, he wants to take a bath but his body refuses to move.

Steve busted into the room in under a minute. "Hey, pal, you okay? You're not hurt, are you? Is there anything you need?" He used to bombard him with questions all the time like that when they were kids. The rapid-fire stress tactic was something Bucky recognized in him right away. Stevie always talked a mile a minute when he was under pressure of some sort.

"I wanna take a bath," He willed himself to roll over and face him. There was no doubt he looked like a damn mess right now. But Steve had seen worse. He'd been there through the panic attacks, the flashbacks, every episode of psychosis where Bucky gripped bedsheets hard enough to tear them and screamed because he thought he was being kept here to be tortured and they were on their way. "I need - I can't be alone. Don't wanna see myself naked alone." He murmured.

He would... Let Steve touch him. As disgusting as the thought of anyone touching him right now was, he felt safe with Steve. Steve's hands weren't like the hands he could feel against his hips if he thought about it long enough. He had the memories of helping him take baths when he was too sick to do it alone, this didn't feel any different. The roles were just flipped, now, with him being the sick one. With a night's rest, he was alert enough now that he knew a bath alone might end in him hurting himself. And that would result in Friday announcing this to the compound to get help, and everyone would know, and Steve and Nat and Sam would be upset-

He didn't want that to happen again. He would rather make sure he was protected against himself than deal with the repercussions. Damn Friday and damn being under program 'Hotline', that meant Friday kept an eye on vitals and brain activity in Avengers at risk. He, Bruce, and Tony were premium members of this shitty, sad club. 

"...Alright." Steve nodded and made his way over to the bed. "Do you need me to carry you to the bathroom?" 

As pathetic as he felt for it, Bucky gave a little nod. He felt like a limp ragdoll when Steve picked him up so easily and swept him off to the bathroom connected to his room. He was set down on the side of the tub so he could undress himself, rather than have unnecessary and invading hands on him. He could hear Steve making small talk, but he couldn't understand any of it. It was probably about what they were going to have for breakfast, or about something new about the world he discovered. Little fun facts about random, mundane things. Busywork in the form of conversation. As appreciated as the attempted distractions were, he only processed the sound of the running water. Bucky kept his boxers on as he slipped into the water, and he mentally thanked him when his friend didn't make any form of comment about it.

Thank god for Steve Rogers. Who managed to wash his hair without pulling on any of the strands or getting shampoo in his eyes, who ran a washcloth over his back without hesitation or question over the long and deep, hatched scars that completely covered the expanse of skin. He didn't question him about anything that had happened. He mostly talked at Bucky, now, after not getting any response from him before. He just reminisced about times before the war or went on about a movie he had watched - right now the movie in question was Grease. He liked the chatter. Something to focus on other than his thoughts or the feeling of hands on his arms. And yet he wasn't expected to answer, though the opportunity was always there. 

"-And it's okay. I'm willing to help you with whatever you need, for as long as you need. If you need me to stay up until three in the morning with you to talk you down from an... from an episode or a panic attack, I'll be there. If you can't bring yourself to talk, I'll be your voice. I have your back, Buck. Forever and always." 

Bucky must have spaced out for that first bit, feeling a pang of guilt for it. But what he did hear made something pull on his heartstrings. Despite everything Steve knew about him now; despite seeing the pictures, seeing his meltdowns so many times, he didn't think he was broken or dirty. He still believed he was as worthy of his love and friendship as he was when they met when Steve was in second grade and Bucky was in third. Steve was getting pushed around on the schoolyard and Bucky had stepped in. ...Nothing had changed, really.

"Thank you," He started. His voice was meek, but he continued. "You're a real pal, Stevie. Givin' me a bath like 'm an old man already."

Steve's laughter prompted his own, and a seed of hope was planted within him that perhaps his normalcy could return, eventually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UUUU small detour from the plot for a flashback chapter. Happens sometime between this AUs equivalent of Civil War and present day. Just wait until we get to Loki's flashback in a couple of chapters, oh boy!


End file.
